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The night is a forbidden landscape,
Strange obsidian fruit of Diana
Moon Goddess
The savage logic of man
no longer masks Her

Away from civilization
Night is still
a mythological entity
and I shall celebrate,
Reveling in the Spirit of the Huntress
Yet untamed by man. . .


In the days of white words
like roses paled
of their scent
She followed him
An acolyte of promises
left unspoken
upon his fevered brow

Cool hands. . . . . dusky lips
falling together
into the depths

He lured
as Euridice
And she . . . 
Eyes, never again
to gaze
upon the xanthous sun.....


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